


same old lines

by cyberglow



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: (more than one trans character btw), Fluff, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Team Bonding, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22143664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberglow/pseuds/cyberglow
Summary: a collection of short vignettes about team bonding, ft. a lot of trans headcanons because its my personal indulgence. first chapter abt sniper & miss pauling chatting, planned future chapters include medic utilizing his passion for human experimentation to improve the livelihood of his teammates & engineer managing chronic pain while pursuing his culinary interests with help from other mercs
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	same old lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on a line from the tough break update where Ms. Pauling talks about 'vision questing' with Sniper. set after the comedown. i make the rules in this corner of the internet so they're both trans

Between the first round of vomiting and their bodies giving into the overwhelming need for fresh water, Miss Pauling and Sniper sit around the smoldering campfire talking. Or, more accurately, Miss Pauling talks while Sniper valiantly tries to make one cigarette last through it.

“He can be, just so _obnoxiously dense_ when he wants to be, and it’s just shrugged off as part of his charm!” Miss Pauling lies in the sand, sensible heels and cardigan long abandoned in favor of a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She has an uncanny resemblance to a cranky human burrito.

Sniper hums noncommittally, which Pauling takes as encouragement to continue. 

“And, and, he never does paperwork correctly! Ever! I asked him to check something the other day and he just stared at the clipboard I gave him and said, I quote, ‘Autograph for a little lady like you? Strange fans nowadays.’ The form was a tax return with _no signature box in sight_.”

She flails her hands in the air to emphasize her point. "Another thing, nobody in that office seems to think I’m an individual person. It's always a connection to the Administrator or a comparison to Bidwell, or Reddy, or, or, or! I don't know. I've buried more bodies than Bidwell has, I can tell you that much." 

Sniper’s cigarette has been in dog-end territory for a while now. He flicks the butt into the embers ahead, peripherally aware that Miss Pauling is still going on about Mann Co.

“-and if some uppity asshole condescendingly says ‘oh, still no husband?’ to me one more time in a meeting, I’m just walking out. I swear, I look at Saxton’s bare legs enough to make a normal person go insane.”

Sniper hums again. “Eh, it's not all that bad, considering. At least we still have a job.”

Miss Pauling deflates a little. “Yeah, okay. I guess you’re right.” Sniper quirks a brow.

“Don't get me wrong, doesn’t stop me from wanting to put a few bullets in the big dumb bastard, sometimes.” 

"Oh, that's just what we need." Miss Pauling puts on her best dramatic news anchor voice. “Hello, it’s Miss P reporting in, here with the infamous Mr. Mundy. Yes, he's... what would it be called? Austricidal?” They both have a good snort at that.

“Mm, next they'll be putting my name and face under a great big ‘most wanted’ sign.” 

Miss Pauling elbows Sniper in the side lightly. “Not sure if good ol’ mum and dad would like that.” 

The lanky man shrugs. “Hm. Well, my parents don’t approve of a lot of the choices I’ve made.” 

Pauling’s voice softens at that. “Yeah. I know how that goes.” 

“Really? Couldn’t imagine secretarial duties for the most powerful woman in New Mexico would involve anything objectionable.” 

“It’s not just that.” Miss Pauling swirls her foot around, the impression of a ring forming in the cool sand. The feeble light of early dawn begins to stretch into view. “I know a lot about you guys, y’know. Like, frankly, more than I feel comfortable with.” 

“Well, that’s your job.” Sniper says matter-of-factly.

“I guess so.” Pauling watches the sand filter over her plum-colored toenails, retouched just a few days ago so the polish is thicker in some places than others. She remembers when the thought of someone else seeing her toes painted filled her with a sense of overwhelming anxiety, fear of being caught, of being seen as some sort of deviant.

“That’s… not why I brought it up, though. I have to know about… past stuff. Even stuff you guys worked to conceal.” She cringes. Not the best wording.

Sniper’s face remains impassive. “Is this where you ask me about how I knew or what my name used to be or some other invasive bullshit?” 

“No, no, I-” Pauling laughs nervously, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to say that, um, I’m in the same metaphorical boat. In terms of, uh, being _Miss_ Pauling, I guess. You already knew about the liking women part.” 

Sniper blinks. “Oh. Well.” 

“Oh, well, indeed.”

A few moments of silence pass, and Miss Pauling starts to babble to fill the gap. “I-I wanted to tell you sooner, but I knew you had the other mercs - some of them, anyway - and I wasn’t as close to you as them, and I just… there was never a good time.” She picks at the hem of her skirt, avoiding eye contact. “Still, I’m sorry it took this long.” 

Sniper pats her on the shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. “Ms. Pauling, you don’t have to apologize.” 

Despite the atrophy evident in Sniper’s empathy skills, something about the genuine understanding in his voice makes Miss Pauling blink back tears. “Thanks. Thank you, I appreciate that.” They sit together in comfortable silence as the sun peaks a few more insistent rays of gold out from the horizon. Miss Pauling leans over and nudges Sniper’s shoulder with her own.

“Hey, maybe we need a support group for this kind of thing.”

Sniper grunts. “What, like to to foster a - wossit called. ‘more welcoming work environment’?” 

“Yeah, and we could all share our experiences, or learn about others, but mostly just. Talk openly.” 

“Hmm. Not sure if I want to hear everyone’s experiences. Barely tolerate the lot as they are.” 

Miss Pauling laughs. “Christ, can you imagine how much more obnoxious Scout would get if we were all socially obligated to listen to him?” 

“Ah, someone’d shut the little man up before long.” Sniper scratches his chin absentmindedly. “Can’t guarantee it wouldn’t be by force, though.” 

The dawn is almost full-blown morning by now, and the sand is quickly beginning to warm beneath the two bodies pressed into its soft, sinking embrace.

Sniper scratches the side of his nose. "Guess we should get going. Avoid a real bad dehydration headache." 

"We should." Miss Pauling agrees, with no intention of moving. Let the sun rise a bit further, she thinks. Just let the damn thing get a headstart.


End file.
